The Intern
by LunarPotion
Summary: Bree Harper was living a mundane life and working for an eccentric little man with a serious drinking problem. She didn't understand when her life had become so boring and predictable, but when a chance for adventure and excitement comes her way, will she be brave enough to take it? Rated M for later chapters and I apologize for any mistakes.
1. Chapter 1

_**AN: So this is my first Supernatural fic, I hope everyone likes it. Or not, it's opinions:) Enjoy!**_

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><p>Bree Harper looked around the pathetic looking kitchen with disdain. All there was around were half empty bottles of liquor and wrappers of take away and junk food. She let out an audible sigh at all the mess because she knew that she was the one that was going to have to clean it.<p>

"Chuck! Would it kill you to clean up after yourself every once in a while? I'm not your maid, ya know," she yelled at the eccentric looking man who was hunched over his computer muttering to himself.

"I've been busy if you can't tell. You were hired to be my assistant, so assist!" Chuck yelled back while never taking his eyes off his monitor. Bree's face set into a glare that was fixed upon the man's back and if he had bothered to turn around then he would have quaked at her look, but then again maybe that was the reason he didn't. She sighed again as she got out the cleaning supplies from under the sink. She would clean the kitchen today and the living room tomorrow. _One room at a time, Harper. One room at a time. _As she was scrubbing the counters, she thought about what her life had come to.

She had applied for an internship at a local publishing house because she wanted to be an editor one day, that's what she was going to school for. However, the skinny bitch with the short hair never mentioned that her first assignment was going to be babysitting a full grown adult male. Chuck Shurley, was a whiny and self- absorbed man, but Bree still liked him. He reminded her of a lost puppy plus she got to read what he wrote. As his books stopped publishing, but he never stopped writing so she became his only audience. There were so many more adventures after Dean goes to hell which had Bree coming back and doing all of this shit for him. She wasn't originally into Supernatural, in truth she didn't even know it existed until she started working for Chuck. She picked up the first book one night while she was waiting for her cupcakes to bake and was completely hooked. She marathon read all of the books in a week while ranting to Chuck about it all. She needed to know what happens next and she was about to strangle him if he didn't let her read the other books.

That's when he came up with the deal that she would cook and bake for him and he would let her read what happens. Cooking and baking wasn't part of her internship, all she was supposed to do was assist with editing, or getting coffee for the man, but this worked out, too. Bree liked to cook and bake, but was rarely able to while living alone. Cooking and baking with no one to share it with was pretty sad and no fun. However, she still had to wonder when her life became so mundane. She was playing housewife to a man-child for goodness sakes. She was supposed to be doing great literary works, getting published, and becoming a top editor in the nation. Instead she was an intern and not foreseeing any advancement even with a degree. Her life was going nowhere fast and she didn't know how to stop it, or spice it up.

"Did you bring anything sweet for me, Bree?" Chuck asked as he made his way into the now mostly clean kitchen to pour himself another drink.

"Don't you think you should slow down, tiger? It's only three in the afternoon. Yes, I brought pie," she answered as she started washing the pile of dishes that she was sure about to sprout legs and walk away. She saw Chuck start to reach for the fridge where she had put it and splashed water at him. He spluttered and stared at her indignantly.

"Pie, which you will be allowed to have after dinner. What sounds good for tonight?" She asked pleasantly as if she hadn't done anything.

"That was very childish of you. Aren't you nineteen or something? Act your age," he reprimanded while pouting. Bree let out a sharp bark of laughter.

"You're a fine one to talk Mr. Man-child," she said while laughing some more. Chuck stuck his tongue out at her which only served to further amuse the auburn haired girl in front of him.

"Laugh all you want, but just remember I can take away your reading rights in a flash. Also, spaghetti sounds good with your meatballs," he replied as he walked back to his chair to continue typing.

"You can threaten all you want little man, but I have a key to your house. And if you stop letting me read, then I stop the cooking and the cleaning. I'll have to go to the store because you have nothing here except a few empty cereal boxes that look like they were chewed through by mice. I need mmm twenty dollars," Bree had finally finished the dishes and turned around. She checked the time on her phone and frowned. She had arrived at one forty and it was now three thirty, she needed to go to the store and back quickly if she wanted to be home before eight tonight.

"Okay okay, get my wallet, there should be a twenty in there. Pick up some ice cream for the pie, too."

"Will do," she said while heading out the door.

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><p>The store had been super packed. Bree was running around the entire store as fast as she could, but it still took her about an hour. <em>Damn soccer moms. <em>Those women had just stood around chatting and blocking the pathways and looked at Bree like she was being an inconvenience when she asked them to move politely.

But she had finally made it back to Chuck's where she parked behind a black car. _An impala? Chuck doesn't have friends. _She grabbed the bags from the back seat and made her way to the steps and saw the door was unlocked which made her start to panic. Chuck was very big on locked doors and "They are watching" shit. She pushed open the door all the way and saw two men standing over Chuck.

"Is this a misery thing? It is isn't it? This is a misery thing!" Chuck yelled while cowering.

"No, this isn't a misery thing! Believe me, we are not fans!" the shorter man yelled.

"Then what do you want?!" Chuck yelled back.

"I'm Sam and that's Dean," the taller one said calmly.

"Sam and Dean are fictional characters. I made them up. They aren't real!"

"What the hell is going on here?" Bree finally decided to make her presence known. She walked over to where everyone was huddled still holding the grocery bags.

"Why don't you go upstairs there sweetheart and let us talk to your boyfriend," the one claiming to be Dean said. Bree gently set down her bags and squared against them with her hands on her hips.

"One, he is not my boyfriend. Two, you are interrupting my dinner plans. If I get home late tonight, then I am blaming you. Three, y'all are crazy! Thinking you can assault this man with your nonsense about being his characters brought to life. Now, I want to know what happens next, so I am staying right here," she told them in a no argument tone.

"That's okay, but we really are Sam and Dean. Let us prove it to you, we want to know what is going on just as much you do," the 'Sam' one said still remaining calm. Bree looked back at Chuck and he shrugged from his prone position on the couch.

"Dammit Chuck! Is this what you do when I leave? Take your pants off? You knew I was coming back," she screeched at him when she saw his lack of clothes.

"Stop with the yelling woman, last I checked I am the boss, not you. Fine fine I'll let you try and prove it."

Bree followed behind them outside to the black Impala.

"A '67 Impala, okay so you have the car right," she said. "Dean" glared back at her sarcastic tone while she just smiled up at him. _Goodness, he is tall. _They opened up the trunk and flipped a hidden bottom compartment to show an array of guns and other assorted items.

"Are those real guns?" Chuck asked a little worriedly.

"Yup, this is real rock salt. And these are real fake ID's," Dean said while lifting a box to show fake ID's.

"Real fake ID's? That's an oxymoron," Bree quipped from behind "Sam". _Damn, he was even taller! _

Chuck was increasing in his twitchiness throughout the little show and tell, "Huh, I've got to hand it to you guys. You really are my number one fans. That's awesome." He was sounding really nervous now.

"Hey I think we have some posters…" Bree said to try and steer the conversation away from the guns. Chuck was starting to walk back to the house and she followed warily keeping an eye on the men.

"Chuck, stop."

"Please, don't hurt me!" He started to plead. _Typical, he only pleads for his life. _She rolled her eyes while the other men became a little desperate to make him listen to them. They seemed genuine, but that still seemed a little farfetched_. I mean, I know Chuck wrote himself into the story, but this has to be a coincidence. _

"How much do you know? Do you know about the Angels? Or Lilith breaking the seals?" Sam asked.

"How do you know about that?" Chuck asked a little stunned. Bree was too because those books haven't ever been published or mentioned outside of his house between the two of them.

"Question is, how do you?" the tough guy asked still with the barely concealed rage.

"Because I wrote it?"

"You kept writing?" the "Sam" one asked incredulously.

"Yeah, even after the publisher went bankrupt. But I'm the only one who has read them. Right, Chuck?" Bree answered now starting to freak out a little.

"Is this some kind of joke?" Chuck started to laugh, "Did Phil put you up to this?"

"I don't think it is a joke, Chuck," she said while staring intently at the agitated boys.

"It has to be, Bree. What other explanation is there?"

"Well, it is nice to meet you Chuck and Bree. I'm Dean Winchester and this is my brother Sam," Dean said with finality. She saw Chuck's face pale and his eyes widen.

"Last names were never in the books. I never told anybody that, I-I never even wrote that down," he stammered.

"Winchester? Like the rifle?" Bree asked deciding to be that cliché because she was sure they had been asked that many times before.

She guessed right as they sighed,"Exactly like the rifle."

They went back inside where Chuck immediately started to drink. He swallowed a few drinks before turning around to face the room where he started to freak out again.

"Oh,y-you're still there."

"Eyup," Dean stated.

"And you're not a hallucination."

"Nope."

Chuck sighed," Well, there is only one explanation."

"Enthrall us, little man,"Bree commanded dryly. _This is going to be good. _

"Obviously, I am a god," those words actually came out of his mouth.

"You are not a god," Sam said with amusement in his voice.

"How else do you explain it? I write things and they come to life. Yeah, definitely a god. A cruel, cruel capricious god. The things I put you through, the physical beatings alone," Chuck was starting to get worked up and Bree was trying not to laugh and failing miserably.

"We're still in one piece," Dean said a little defensively.

"I killed your father…" Chuck started again.

"Chuck!" She exclaimed. He needed to stop talking. He was about to go too far. But, he didn't listen.

"I burned your mother alive, and then you had to go through the whole horrific ordeal again with Jessica." _God, he needed to stop talking._

"Too far, Chuck. You wrote about it, but they lived it. Show a little compassion, please?" Bree tried again to get him to shut his mouth.

"All for what?" She sighed knowing she clearly didn't get through to him.

"And he's not listening anymore…" She trailed off as he wound himself with more useless air to speak.

"The sake of literary symmetry. I toyed with your lives, your emotions for entertainment," more hurtful wasted air.

She saw Dean go rigid and Sam seemed to retreat into himself with every word Chuck spoke and felt an ache for the men she saw before her. They were truly hurting inside and they were really denying it.

"You didn't toy with us Chuck, okay? You didn't create us," Dean said while walking forward. I didn't know if he was simply walking forward, or about to aim a well-deserved punch.

"Did you really have to live through the bugs?" He asked. He still wasn't listening.

"Yeah."

"What about the Ghost Ship?"

"Yes, that too."

"I am so sorry. I mean horror is one thing, but being forced to live bad writing. If I had known it was real, then I would have done another path."

"Chuck you are not a god!" Dean finally snapped.

"You could just be psychic?" Bree threw out her theory. It made the most sense.

"Nah, if I were psychic do you think I would be writing? Get real, Harper."

"Dean and I thought you were, as well. It seems that you just focused on our lives," Sam explained.

"Yeah, laser focus," Dean emphasized," Are you working on anything right now?"

"Oh my god…" Bree whispered while sitting down on one of the many scattered chairs.

"What?" Sam turned to her and she looked up at his worried face and then back at Chuck.

He was looking at her stunned face uncomprehendingly," Chuck what was the last thing you let me read?"

Chuck's face turned into a dawning expression," Holy crap."

"What?" Dean reiterated a little more forcefully.

"The latest book, uh, it's kinda weird," Chuck began with his explanation.

"Weird how?"

"It's very Vonnegut..."

"Slaughterhouse Five Vonnegut, or Cat's Cradle Vonnegut?" Dean leaned in to ask intently. _He reads. Hot. _

"What?" Sam asked Dean with an adorably confused look. He sounded so surprised.

"What?" Dean asked defensively. They shared a look that Bree couldn't even decipher, but Sam looked impressed and Dean looked smug.

"No, uh, more of a Kilgore Trout Vonnegut. I wrote myself into it. I wrote myself at my house, confronted by my characters." All of us sat in a solemn silence.


	2. Chapter 2

After the Winchester boys left saying something about laundry, Bree and Chuck stared at each other before either one of them could think of anything to say. Chuck seemed to space out with all of the shock he had been dealt today. Bree felt a little bad for the man, it isn't every day that you get to converse with your characters to find out they are real and pissed. Well, Sam didn't seem angry just concerned. Dean, he was a hunky ball of barely concealed anger. Chuck hadn't moved from his spot in front of his monitor and Bree couldn't tell if he was breathing, or not.

"Chuck? Hey, can you hear me?" Bree asked while waving a hand in front of the author's unseeing face. She didn't get a reaction, so she started to shake him.

"Snap out of it, Chuck! I need you to realize reality now!" She yelled at him until he started to blink and scream back at her.

"The hell?! Bree, was that really necessary?"

"Yes! You were scaring me. How is all of this sinking in?" She asked still concerned.

"About as well as you would expect. I'm not a god, which is a bit of a letdown. I may or may not be psychic which is freaking me out. Sam and Dean are real! They're real! I am not okay! You know what? This is a dream, just a twisted dream and I am going to wake up soon," his tone had taken on a dreamy quality like he was really convinced that this was a dream. Bree decided to let him live his lie to keep his sanity intact for just a little longer before she had to shatter it.

"Okay, well it is now five-thirty, so I am going to start dinner and hope that I can at least get home by nine. You wanted meatballs, right?"

"Yes, please?"

Bree set about to make dinner for the both of them while keeping an eye on Chuck in case he snapped. Sooner or later the man would have to come face to face with his reality. Bree turned to fully concentrate on what she was doing so that she wouldn't burn the meatballs and have Chuck throw a hissy fit and make her do it all over. _Because he would. _

"You did buy ice cream for the pie, right?" Chuck asked concerned. If there was no ice cream, then he couldn't eat the pie. _Shit._ Bree suddenly remembered she had never put the ice cream away because of the whole "Sam and Dean are real" thing that just happened. She quickly knelt down to the shopping bags and found the now melted ice cream.

"I'm sorry, in the confusion I forgot to put in the freezer. Do you want me to try and freeze it now, or buy some more tomorrow?"

Chuck looked pretty pathetic pouting about how he couldn't eat the pie now. He started muttering about how she needs to bake him another one. She rolled her eyes, but she knew that she was going to bake him a fresh one tomorrow in the hopes that his mood would improve. She finished cooking dinner and they sat down in his living room to eat. Chuck had stopped being chatty and they were sitting in a rare silence. Bree didn't mind quiet and she thought he was used to being alone that he wouldn't mind the quiet either, but Chuck hated silence. He usually tried to fill it with inane babble, or Supernatural. However, tonight he remained solemn.

"What's wrong?" She finally asked.

"It was all real wasn't it? I'm not dreaming?" He asked silently. She knew he was trying to delude himself, but he really couldn't pretend and that this would go away. Knowing those boys as she did, they would be back.

"Yes…"

Chuck sighed as it all hit him again, Sam and Dean were real. _But wait. _

"If everything I have written has come true, then Lilith and the apocalypse are real, too! We are all going to die!" He started wail and moan while Bree stared at him white faced. He was right, but he was still writing. _There must be more to the story, there just has to be. _

"If there is one thing that I know about the Winchester boys, is that they never give up and they never fail, er too bad. As long as you are still writing, then I think we can have hope," she tells him while looking him straight in the eyes. It must have worked or done something right because he came back to himself and gave a wan smile.

"Alright, I think I can believe in that." She smiled a genuine smile in response. She got up to clear and wash the dishes. She worked in silence as Chuck began to write again with more determination this time. Bree was finishing up her chores for that night when she heard him hesitantly call her name.

"What do you need?" She asks him just as hesitantly.

"I uhh…I just wrote you into the books. It umm just sort of happened," he confessed to her with a sheepish smile and a fearful look in his eyes. Bree went completely still and tried to process the newest bomb in her life. _I'm a character in a book series now, based off real life. How did that happen?! _

"Why?" She finally asks in almost a whisper.

"You suddenly became really important to the plot, it was uhh a feeling for lack of a better explanation. It was like you belonged there. If you really want me to, then I can edit you out of it, but…" he trailed off and she knew what he meant. It would be incomplete and it would be all her fault.

After heaving a great sigh,"It's fine. I belong there right? Maybe I can become a main character, eh?" She laughs and finishes up knowing she did the right thing once seeing the relieved smile on his face. The first real smile since earlier. He goes back to writing and everything was fine until she heard a hiss of pain. Bree spun around to see Chuck clutching his head and curled into a ball on the floor. She quickly ran to give him an alcoholic drink because she knew that is what he needed. He took it from her hands and quickly gulped it down and she could see the effects taking control as he began to uncurl and his body stopped shaking from the pain and tears that escaped his eyes.

"S-sorry, you have to deal with that," he apologized.

Bree just waved it off,"It's fine. I'm glad I am here to help. Going through that must be pretty painful and now you don't have to do it alone." He smiled gratefully before standing up with her help and together they awkwardly walked to his couch for him to lie down.

"I'm going to go, but I will be back pretty early tomorrow, okay?"

"That's fine. I'm sorry you are getting home so late," she looks at her phone to check the time and realizes it is fifteen minutes away from nine. She tsked as she hurried up to get her stuff and give Chuck a reassuring pat goodbye as he started to drift off to dreamland not even lasting to see her leave and lock up.

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><p>When Bree got home, she suddenly felt drained. Too much action had happened today and she wasn't really used to it. <em>It was exciting, however. <em>She mulled over today's events and she started thinking about once Sam and Dean leave, her life is going to go back to being mundane as all hell. Actually, it was going to be even more boring than usual because after knowing what was out there, and still having to function as usual when other people are going on dangerous adventures; her life was going to lack so much.

All of the adventures that she has read about that Sam and Dean go through, all of the things they have lived through, it made her feel a sharp pain in her chest. This pang was a familiar one of loneliness and longing, all she has ever wanted was to belong somewhere and feel like her existence was worth something. Taking care of an alcoholic author, however much she loved the man, was not her dream life. She lay down on her couch staring up at the white ceiling of the apartment. She turned to look around her apartment and felt herself coil in disgust at how plain it was. There were no personal touches and she had been living here for three years. It looked the same as it did when she first moved in. What was she doing with her life? _Nothing. _The publisher went bankrupt and she was barely getting paid anything, plus she couldn't afford college for much longer which meant that her career would be on halt indefinitely. With the way things were going she wasn't sure that she was going to be able to pay next month's rent.

As all of these realizations came around her, she started to cry. She started to sob and for the first time in years she missed her family. No, she missed her little brother. She started to think of all the times he would come and comfort her when she cried from various reasons. She had never been a very strong girl, emotionally, mentally, and physically. Bree's little brother had always been her fountain of strength and her rock in a family that never appreciated her, in a life that never wanted her. She quickly pushed those thoughts away because they were just going to depress her and she really needed to think clearly.

_What am I going to do? _She thought as her tears calmed. She didn't have a plan and that scared her the most. She started to drift off to sleep, no longer able to fight off the weariness and her last thought was, _I wish I could just go away with the Winchesters._

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><p>She woke up early the next morning, so that she could bake the distraught man a fresh pie. She isn't really sure why this man was so important to her as to deserve two pies, but he was and so she did. If she really had to look at the situation, then he was her replacement family, but she didn't want to delve too deep into her psyche. That was a place she felt was not necessary to visit, ever. She cleaned around her home for a bit as the smell of baked apples and cinnamon permeated the air better than any candle could. The smell of a baking pie was a truly comforting smell that always reminded her of happier times. The image of a little boy's smile flashed through her mind before she shoved it back where it came from.<p>

Bree had finally finished cleaning and the pie still had twenty minutes to bake so she decided to read. She used to move around a lot, so she invested some of her money into a Kindle because packing books would have taken too long. She picked it up to browse her library before settling on a steamy new historical romance. The cover had the predictable shirtless male and a blushing lush female and had a generic plot, but the more intimate scenes were what she was really after anyway. It was times like these that she really enjoyed living alone because no one was around to watch her face flush and the almost feral expression that crossed her face as she read. She was just about to get to a good part when the timer on her phone saying that the pie was done went off. She took it out and decided to read a bit more, so it could cool a little bit for easier transportation.

The main male character fascinated her and maybe that was why she could overlook the genericism of it all. He was tall and lean with fairly broad shoulders, but not an overly muscly build. He had really light brown hair and from the description a really pretty color of light green in his eyes. He vaguely reminded her of someone, but she couldn't quite put her finger on it.

After another ten minutes of reading, she decided it was time to head over to Chuck's. On the way she stopped to get some more ice cream with the promise that she would put it in the freezer as soon as she got there. She really did not want to have to deal with the man being all moody, again. _Tch, damn man-child. _The drive to his house isn't a very long one, so she stopped at a café to order breakfast and coffee to go for the both of them. _I really spoil this man. _

As expected, she got to his house to see a familiar black impala parked in front. She quickly got out and gathered her things a little anxious to see them again. She unlocked the front door and strode in to hear three male voices and she couldn't help but smile. It was really odd for her to hear voices in this house at all. Usually, it is all rather silent.

"So, you wrote another chapter?" She heard who she thought was Sam ask Chuck. _Ooh! A new chapter! _She could feel herself getting excited. Chuck looked really haggard and she could tell that it had been another bad night for him. He probably drank himself to sleep again like usual and had his "visions" that she wasn't sure was worth all of the suffering Chuck was going through.

"This was all so much easier before you were real," he sighed. Dean's face subtly changed so that it gave her the impression he was slightly worried before it quickly that it disappeared and Bree wasn't sure she had seen it at all.

"Just spit it out, we can take it," Dean said.

Chuck looked worried and faced Dean,"You especially are not going to like this."

"I didn't like Hell," Dean's face went hard and his tone sounded rough.

"It's Lilith. She's coming for Sam," Chuck said quickly almost like ripping off a bandaid.


End file.
